NEITHER HERE NOR THERE

by Mohammad Jaafer

Sometimes I decide to go to sleep because, in my sleep, I dream that I have the ability to stop this war. But I can’t sleep. And if I do, my sleep is dreamless and short, just four or five hours.

When I wake up, the war is still there.

For a long time, I had a dream that I would see my country develop into a place where all people live in peace and security, a country where all means of a decent life are available. The people of Sudan are simple; they love life, they love joy and happiness, they are social, they are connected by love, and they co-exist in all aspects of life. For better and for worse.

That is why the Sudanese revolution of 2019 demanded freedom, peace, and justice in the face of the government of the late President Omar al-Bashir. Sudan, under his rule, was deteriorating on a daily basis. After the revolution, the Transitional Military Council took power in the country. It comprises two military forces: the Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces. After arduous negotiations, the opposition forces and the council agreed on a transitional period leading to the formation of an elected government. Three years ago, on August 17, 2019, the constitutional document that established a partnership between civilians and the military in Sudan was signed, and on October 25, 2021, the army overthrew the civilian government and suspended work on the constitutional document.

The current fighting in Sudan erupted due to the difference in visions about the framework agreement that was signed between the military and civilian components in order to form a civilian government.

Sometimes the conflict in Sudan feels more like a power struggle between two factions than a war.

Before the war, I felt something that I had never felt at all until recently. It is a sensation that I can’t quite put into words, Something like losing my homeland and leaving the house and my family. On the one hand, I wanted to stay. On the other, I wanted to leave. Due to my country’s deteriorating living conditions and political situation, I decided to depart. You can say mixed emotions.

I suddenly felt as if I had lost my family and friends, even though I had only left them to travel for a limited period of time, and I had no interest in how long I would be going. I was just concerned about leaving my country and moving to a new place where life was decent and good.

In one day, my family and I were literally divided into three parts, and each part of us was in a different place. My mother, my sister, who is two years younger than me, and my older sister’s husband are in the Emirates. They relocated to the Emirates in the middle of 2022. In Sudan, in Khartoum, are my dad and my 2-year-older brother. And me? I am in Denmark.

My sorrow is that I now realise that my country is not the safe and secure home I always imagined. Every day I feel sad to see the streets and the places I used to go to, destroyed. The Khartoum sky was replaced by clouds of smoke instead of the clouds of rain that people used to wait for and enjoyed in the autumn when the children played outside in the rain. Now, rockets instead of rain are falling from the sky over Khartoum.

Khartoum has nothing particularly attractive about it, so I never liked spending much time there. But now, I miss the city in which I was born and raised, in which I lived my life with my family and friends. I miss my motorbike, which I used to ride every morning just to get out of the house without thinking of a destination.

The situation in Sudan has become tragic following the war. The devastation and hardship that my home country has endured weigh heavily on my heart.

The loss of lives, the displacement of families, and the ongoing struggles for stability and peace have had a profound impact on my emotions. I am deeply concerned about the well-being of my loved ones who are still in Sudan, and the distance between us only exacerbates the feeling of helplessness. Leaving home and family behind to seek safety and a better future is difficult. Laden with uncertainty and challenges.

My experience of trying to overcome the difficult times I face in Denmark during the war in Sudan showcases both resilience and strength.

Being in Denmark now, far away from the familiar sights, sounds, and faces of my homeland, I feel fear, longing, and a sense of isolation from being in the loop of what is actually going on there.

Navigating my country during times of war adds an extra layer of complexity to challenging situations. The constant worry about my loved ones back home and the unpredictable nature of conflict weigh heavily on my heart. I am trying to face these difficulties by spending time with my friends and hanging out, and talking online to my family back home.

Going out and finding comfort can be a method to momentarily lessen the grief and yearning for my family and friends during these trying times.

Sometimes I explore the city, allowing myself to get lost in unfamiliar streets and alleys. A short respite from the haunting images of destruction I see in the news and social media. Remembering the vibrant energy instead of the chaos back home.

Another turning point was May 22. I went to sleep and then woke up and learned about the death of my uncle, Muhammad Mahmoud. He was on his way to rescue a house when he heard the mosque’s plea for help. When he arrived with his neighbours, one of the Rapid Support Forces shot him directly in the chest.

Uncle Muhammad was not only my uncle. He was my friend and companion. I only received kind words from this pure soul, who was drawing smiles and happiness into our family. Losing a loved one is never easy, and I have been grappling with a deep sense of grief. It feels insurmountable sometimes. My uncle’s presence and guidance were invaluable to me, and I find myself craving the warmth of his smile and the sound of his voice. During these moments I am even more reminded of the fragility of life and everything that you cherish in life.

Following my uncle’s death, I seek solace in parks and green spaces, where the beauty of nature provides a much-needed escape. As I stroll among the trees, their branches reaching the sky, I breathe in the fresh air, and my mind is momentarily freed from the burdens of war. Watching children play and families enjoying moments of togetherness, I am reminded of the simple joy that can exist even in the midst of turmoil.

However, a lingering sensation of longing persists even in these times of relief. When I see other people building relationships. I can’t help but long for the warmth and familiarity of my family and friends. While my outings offer momentary solace from the anguish the war has inflicted on my nation, they are only a glimpse of what I genuinely desire: The presence and assistance of my loved ones. •